


Anniversary

by shelley (jedi_penguin)



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-15
Updated: 2005-11-15
Packaged: 2017-10-13 05:36:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/133548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jedi_penguin/pseuds/shelley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Giles needs time to think before he goes to church.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anniversary

**Author's Note:**

> This is dedicated to my husband, Christopher. We are coming up on an anniversary of sorts, and it’s put me in a rather reflective mood. I hope that no one minds if I pass this mood along to my favorite Watcher.
> 
> This fic is not entirely angst-free. You might want to give this one a miss if you really can’t handle that.

Giles looked in the mirror, straightened his tie, and nodded in satisfaction. He might feel like hell, but he looked quite presentable. His stomach hadn’t forgiven him yet, but his appearance gave no hint of last night’s excesses. The mirror insisted that he looked just the way he should today: entirely appropriate for the occasion.

He looked at his watch and frowned. Things weren’t due to start until 2:00; there was no reason for him to be in the sanctuary until five minutes beforehand. The church would probably be packed, but unlike almost everyone else there, he wouldn’t have any trouble finding a seat. He had a place in the proceedings, and there was a certain benefit to that.

It was 1:05 now; he had almost an hour, if he wanted it. He did. He wanted to take that time to think about the events that had gotten him here, to this unexpected place. He wanted, no **needed** to spend that time alone. He craved solitude, a quiet isolation that would let him reflect and meditate.

He supposed that he should have spent last night thinking, instead of drinking. He and Xander had gotten very drunk, very quickly. The others were uncomfortable with this, and left as soon as the two male Scoobies started to get maudlin. Giles had been glad. Angel, Wes, Robson... none of them really **belonged** there. Everything was going to change today, and he wanted to spend the night before with a true friend.

Giles and Xander started to wind down around 1:00, and probably would have gone home to bed at that point if Ethan hadn’t crashed their party. Somehow, Giles hadn’t been surprised to see Ethan. On some level, he had been expecting him. When he said something along those lines, Ethan had given him a greasy smile and said, “Well, I had to wait until you were too drunk to thrash me, didn’t I?” He and Xander had laughed long and hard at that, drunken giggles that were all out of proportion to the comment. They invited Ethan to join them, and the three of them pushed on until dawn, drinking, talking and reminiscing.

Giles hadn’t seen Ethan slip away slightly before the sun rose. He rather regretted that, for he knew that Ethan would not be at the church today. Organized religion was anathema to the chaos mage, and all of the church’s rites and traditions were something of a joke to him. Especially this one. Still, Giles would have liked to thank his old friend for coming, even though Ethan would have laughed away his appreciation.

Giles passed by the doors to the sanctuary, and peeked in. It was already starting to fill up; this might very well be standing room only. He smiled wistfully, and asked himself, why not? He and Buffy had a lot of friends... particularly Buffy. He really didn’t want to talk to any of those friends at the moment, however, so he ducked into the church office and then into the pastor’s office. It was quiet in there, and was filled with comfortable chairs. It was exactly what he needed.

Giles plopped down in an overstuffed ottoman, and tried to think of how he had come here, to this place, on this day.

~*~*~

After Sunnydale collapsed into the Hellmouth, the survivors wandered aimlessly for months. Oh, not the new Slayers; they were all so excited about their new powers that they began looking for wrongs to right. And not Andrew or Wood, they were both determined to be part of the fight against evil. But the pitiful remnants of the Scooby gang? They were utterly lost.

Xander was the first one to find himself. One day, for no apparent reason, he decided that he was not moving another inch. He had no more direction or ambition than the others did, but he did have a strong determination to find an apartment and stay in one place. So he and the three girls left him in Nags Head, North Carolina and continued wandering.

A few weeks after that, Willow suddenly decided that she wanted to go back to school. It was too late to apply to another university for the fall semester, but there was nothing preventing her from sitting in on classes and then registering for the winter. And so Giles and the two Summers girls left Willow in Colorado and went to Europe.

When they arrived in London, Buffy began worrying about Dawn’s education. They got two flats, next door to each other, and started to rejoin the living. It was slow going at first, but slowly the three Sunnydale survivors began to find things that they **wanted** to do, activities that they **enjoyed** doing. It was a welcome change to constantly reacting to the latest evil and never living for oneself. Buffy and Giles still hunted the occasional vampire, but that was no longer the **only** thing they did. All three also began meeting people, and making new friends. And this, oddly enough, was what revived the relationships among the three of them.

Looking back, Giles found it difficult to believe that he spent nearly half a year in the company of people he barely knew any longer, and didn’t particularly like... but he had. The Scoobies stuck together after Sunnydale because none of them could imagine separating from the others, but they weren’t friends. They didn’t talk to each other, they didn’t share their hopes or dreams or nightmares; they existed alongside each other, but chasms apart from each other. Xander had been the first to see this; last night, he had admitted to Giles that that was why he broke off from them. He had needed time to find himself before he could be a friend to anyone. They had all needed that.

After Giles and the two girls settled down, the Watcher started meeting new people. These new, shallow friendships made him realize how desperately he missed **true** friendships, ones forged in fire and blood. He began talking to Buffy and Dawn about his dating misadventures, the teenager regaled them with tales about life in high school, and his Slayer gushed over her boyfriend. They phoned Xander and Willow, together and separately, and their family was forged anew. For a while, things were perfect. And then they became better.

Giles wondered, as he had wondered so many times before, what his life would have been like if Buffy’s newest beau hadn’t been such a bastard. Jeremy was wealthy, and charming, and handsome, and Buffy had been head over heels in love with him. Unfortunately, so were three other girls. Buffy wasted almost two years on that arsehole before she realized that he was constitutionally incapable of being faithful to anyone.

Weeks after Buffy broke up with her boyfriend, Giles still wondered whether he would ever make it through a full twenty-four hours with a dry shirt. His Slayer cried on his shoulder several times a day, and seemed to live within his embrace. Even when Dawn came home from university for brief visits, Buffy refused to spend much more than five non-waking minutes in her own apartment.

Giles assumed that things would go back to the way they were once her broken heart began to heal, but the only real observable change was that Buffy’s tears disappeared and were replaced by peals of laughter. She was always over at his flat, and Giles began to love having her over there. It seemed entirely natural that their love for each other’s company should slowly but surely develop into a love for each other.

~*~*~

A door opened into the office, shattering Giles’ concentration. It was the pastor, and she obviously hadn’t expected to see anybody occupying her office.

“Mr. Giles,” she said with surprise. “Did you need anything?”

“Um, yes, actually,” Giles said shyly. “I rather desperately need some time to gather my thoughts before...”

The pastor smiled kindly. “Of course. I understand. I would tell you take as long as you need, but—“

“But you need to start the service in half an hour or so.” Giles gave her a faint and unconvincing smile. “I promise not to be late. You shan’t have to wait for me.”

The clergywoman nodded, but didn’t say anything. She simply gathered together some papers and left, firmly closing the door behind her.

~*~*~

Had he and Buffy really only been in love with each other for six months? It seemed difficult to believe sometimes, for she fit into his life so neatly that it seemed like she had always been there. Giles wasn’t the only one to feel this way. Buffy liked to claim that they had been in love for years and just hadn’t realized it. It was a lovely sentiment, but he didn’t believe it. They had always had the potential to fit together, but it took time and effort and maturity—on both their parts—to make a romantic relationship between them possible. Giles wouldn’t have traded a minute of the previous years, however. The estrangements of years gone by made this relationship just that much more precious.

Those first four months were completely carefree, and they were seldom apart from each other. They talked and they kissed with equal fervor. They made meals together with the same passion and contentment that they felt when they made love. Dawn was overjoyed by this change in their relationship, and there was nothing in their lives that could not be called perfect. Neither Giles nor Buffy had ever been so happy.

After four blissful months, however, changes crept in. Not emotional changes—they were still hopelessly in love with each other—but physical changes. Buffy tired easily, and was often clumsy. She laughed it off, but he decided to keep a closer eye upon her. Then she began to get headaches and dizzy spells. He begged her to go see a doctor, but she refused. She claimed that she was suffering from low blood sugar, brought on by the fact that she so often forgot to eat. Her mind had been blown away by the phenomenal sex, she insisted with a twinkle in her eye. While part of him loved her ego stroking, he wasn’t comforted. She seemed off, somehow, and he worried about her incessantly.

Things came to a head one lazy Sunday morning. They had no plans for the day, other than a vague intention of spending as much of the day in bed as they could. He was worshipping her beautiful body when she suddenly turned an interesting shade of green. He sat up, and she rolled off the bed. She ran for the bathroom, and barely made it to the toilet before emptying her stomach.

Concerned, Giles followed her into the bathroom. He dampened a cloth with cold water, and began stroking her forehead with it. She gave him a tremulous smile, and his heart melted. Unconcerned with his own nakedness, he wrapped her in a towel and then sat her down on the toilet lid. He crouched down before her and took her hands. “So, are you still going to insist that you’re fine?”

“I am fine,” Buffy snapped. Seeing his raised eyebrow, however, her defiance suddenly faded. “I mean, I’m sure that I’m not sick. But, I think that, uh, I could be, uh—“

“You think that you’re pregnant,” Giles finished softly for her.

“Yeah,” Buffy admitted shyly. “I do think that. I’ve kinda been thinking it for a couple of days.”

“So have I,” he said quietly. He smiled gently, terrified of showing her too much. He was ecstatic about the idea of having a child with this wonderful woman, but he didn’t know how she felt about it. He was older, experienced, ready and eager to settle down; she was younger and had led a terribly circumscribed life. A baby would be a perfect addition to his life right now, but he didn’t delude himself about Buffy’s probable reaction. An unwanted pregnancy would take so many opportunities away from her! He would understand if she didn’t want to bear or keep his child... or at least that’s what he told himself. Afraid of influencing her, he hid his own feelings and prayed that she would want this baby as desperately as he did.

“So, a baby,” she said shakily. “How do you feel about that, Giles?”

“I think the more relevant question is ‘how do **you** feel about it, Buffy.”

“Are you saying that I’m on my own here,” she asked incredulously.

“Certainly not!” Giles was hurt that she could ever think such a thing. “I’m saying that I recognize that a baby might not be as big of a blessing to you as it would be to me.”

“A blessing,” she asked wetly. “Are you saying—Giles, do you **want** this baby?”

Giles didn’t say anything. He simply got up and left the bathroom. Buffy followed him curiously, but he didn’t acknowledge her. He went to his dresser, opened his top drawer, and rummaged around in the back until he found the items he wanted. He handed them to her without a word.

Buffy stared at the items in her hand: a little blue rattle bear, a pair of striped pajamas small enough for a newborn, and a yellow receiving blanket. When she finally lifted her head to look at him, she had tears rolling down her cheeks. “You do! You really want a baby, don’t you?” He inclined his head and gave her a shy smile. “But you do know that this kid would have half of my genes, don’t you?”

Her lover gave her an intent look. “Any other child would be totally unacceptable to me.”

Buffy laughed in delight, and her eyes sparkled. “Don’t you think all this stuff,” she motioned to the three baby gifts in her lap, “is a bit premature? I mean, we don’t even know if I am yet.”

Giles went back to his drawer, and pulled out the last hidden item. He handed it to her, saying, “That’s what this is for.” Buffy grinned as she accepted the home pregnancy test that he had bought for her.

~*~*~

The door to the office opened, and the pastor stuck her head in. “I’m sorry, Mr. Giles, but Ms. Summers is looking for you.”

“I imagine she is,” Giles sighed. “I, I still need a few more minutes.” The Watcher smiled as sweetly and ingratiatingly as he could. “Could you please convince her to give me a bit more time?”

“Certainly,” she said kindly. “But I don’t know how long I can put her off. Ms. Summers seems to be a very determined young woman!”

Giles gave a more genuine smile and nodded his head. “That she is. Determined is a very good word for her.” The pastor chuckled, and closed the door again.

~*~*~

Giles’ smile turned nostalgic as he remembered that Sunday morning. That had been a good day. The test was positive, and Giles had never been so happy in his life. They had spent the rest of the day celebrating: in bed, in fancy restaurants, and in posh nightclubs. Neither one of them had any alcohol, of course, but they didn’t need it. They were drunk on happiness, and all outside stimulants were redundant.

They weren’t able to get an appointment with a nurse-midwife until Friday, but Giles spent that time reading every pregnancy book he could get his hands on. He was almost giddy with excitement when they were finally ushered into an examining room by the woman who would be delivering his child in a few short months.

The midwife, who told them to call her Charity, began asking a vast number of questions about Buffy’s medical history. She was amused by the fact that Giles could answer most of her questions faster than her patient could. During the course of these questions, she discovered that they had used a home pregnancy test. Charity promptly insisted on doing a pregnancy test in the hospital. “Those tests are not nearly as accurate as the manufacturers would have you believe,” she said severely. Buffy and Giles were unconcerned by her attitude; they both knew that she was pregnant. After all, her morning sickness was increasing daily, and she had nearly passed out the day before. What else could it be?

When the skeptical midwife left them to go check Buffy’s lab results, Giles took her small hands within his large ones. “So. When do you want to get married, Buffy?”

Buffy gave him an incredulous look, and Giles bit down a smirk. “Excuse me, but, HUH?”

Giles snickered. “I know that it will take a while to plan a decent wedding, but I’m afraid that you might not be happy with any gown that will fit you in four or five months. You should still be reasonably close to your usual size in two months; will that be long enough to plan a wedding that you would like?”

“Um, Giles, did I miss something here,” Buffy asked. “’Cause that sort of sounded like you asked me to marry you, but in a way that wasn’t.”

“Don’t be silly, Buffy,” Giles said with mock severity. “I didn’t ask you to marry me just now! What do you take me for? There is a certain decorum to be followed, traditions that must be observed. When I am ready to ‘pop the question,’ I will take you out to the nicest restaurant in London to wine and dine you as you deserve. Then I will ask for you for your hand in marriage in the most romantic speech that I am capable of memorizing and then forgetting at the critical moment. After that, I will present you with a ring that will take me years to pay off.” Buffy laughed at his solemn expression, and Giles’ eyes twinkled in response. “But,” he continued, “as there is a certain amount of urgency involved with the planning, I don’t think we should wait until I get off my arse and do things properly. Sooo... when do you want to get married?”

“God, Rupert,” Buffy breathed. “I love you so much. I **so** want to be your wife, and I really couldn’t care less how or when it all comes about.” Buffy wiped a few stray tears from her eyes, and then put on her fiercest expression. “But I want a proposal, Mister. I don’t care about etiquette; I just want to be asked. Right here, and right now!”

Giles got down on his knees, and knelt before her. He took both her hands in one of his own, and brought them to his lips for a gentle kiss. When he had dropped to the floor, he had meant it for a joke; now that he was here, however, gazing into Buffy’s hazel eyes, he realized that this was the most important moment of his life. Before he could say anything, however, Charity came back in.

“I hate to tell you, Ms. Summers... but you’re not pregnant.”

 _You’re not pregnant, you’re not pregnant_ The words rolled around and around in Giles’ head, and they hurt worse with each repetition. Although it hadn’t even been a week since they “confirmed” Buffy’s pregnancy, that child had become very, very real to him in those few short days. He had known that he wanted to have a baby with Buffy, but he truly had not known the utter desperation of that desire. And he was completely unprepared for the desolation that flooded his soul when he learned that Buffy’s womb was empty.

Buffy wasn’t ready to accept the midwife’s declaration, however. “What do you mean, I’m not pregnant?!? The stick turned blue and everything!”

“Like I said, those tests aren’t as accurate as one might wish. False positives do happen on a regular basis, and even false negatives aren’t unheard of. I assure you, the test we give here in the hospital is fool-proof.”

“But, but,” Buffy sputtered. Giles would have laughed at her outraged expression, if he weren’t so heartsick himself. “I’ve been having morning sickness for two weeks, and dizzy spells, and headaches. Your test is wrong. I **know** I’m pregnant!”

“I’m sorry, Buffy, but you aren’t,” the nurse said kindly. “Despite what you may have seen on television and movies, not every woman gets morning sickness. Every pregnancy is different. I was quite ill with my first two children, but my stomach never gave a twinge with my last one. And, also contrary to popular culture, there are sometimes other reasons for nausea.”

“Okay,” Buffy said quietly. “In that case, what’s wrong with me?”

“I don’t know, Buffy,” Charity said seriously. “Your doctor is going to have to do some tests to determine that, perhaps a lot of them. You need to make an appointment with him, as soon as possible.”

The midwife left the room, and Buffy immediately burrowed into Giles’ chest. He put his arms around her and hugged her tight, but his mind was elsewhere. The soul-killing despair was gone, and in its place was a gut-wrenching terror. What was the matter with his love?

~*~*~

“There you are!”

Giles looked up, and saw Xander standing at the door, looking somewhat hyper, and totally exasperated. Xander’s irritation couldn’t hold a candle to his own, however. Giles was personally affronted by Xander’s robustness today. They had matched each other drink for drink last night, and the boy should look like he felt. Giles knew that his hangovers tended to worsen with age, but this level of energy was cosmically unfair. Still, knowing that tempers could easily get out of hand today, he kept his voice mild as he answered, “Here I am.”

Xander scowled. “You shouldn’t be hiding in here. I know a certain young lady who will mow down everybody in her path if you don’t show up today.”

Giles forgot his resolve keep his irritation hidden and scowled back. “For God’s sake! Of course I’m going to show up today! Did you honestly believe that I wouldn’t?”

“Well, no,” Xander muttered, suddenly looking ashamed of himself. “It’s just—“

“Yes, I know,” Giles whispered. Raising his voice, he asked, “Did Hank Summers show? Angel said that he wasn’t on any of Wolfram and Hart’s private jets that he chartered to bring you lot over; did he take a commercial flight by any chance?”

“That bastard,” Xander asked bitterly, and Giles assumed that the answer was no. Before he could say anything, Xander said, “But I suppose you don’t want to spend the next twenty minutes thinking about that tool. I’ll just clear out of here and let you continue your Angel wannabe act.” He gave Giles a quick grin, to let the older man know that he was joking. “Just don’t be late, okay?” Giles nodded, and Xander left him in peace once more.

~*~*~

The midwife was correct: there were a lot of tests involved. Buffy soon learned that in addition to not being pregnant, she didn’t have any sort of flu, or viral infection, or appendicitis, or meningitis, or any of a dozen other itis-type diseases. Everyday she learned more things that she did not have, and came no closer to discovering what **was** wrong with her. Just when Giles was on the brink of demanding a new doctor, the lazy sod finally thought to ask Buffy if she was suffering from double vision. When Buffy admitted that yes, there was a small bit of double vision, but not enough to be troublesome, the doctor suddenly looked very grave. And Giles’ terror suddenly increased exponentially.

The doctor said that he wanted to do a MRI, “just to rule out a few more possibilities.” He was casual, but Buffy wasn’t fooled. That was exactly the same tone of voice her mother’s doctor had used when he suggested that Joyce get a brain scan. Buffy wasn’t surprised when he told her that she had a brain tumor.

Buffy had always thought that cancer was cancer, but apparently that wasn’t true. Her tumor had its very own name: _medulla blastoma_. It was a childhood tumor, and had an almost 80% fatality rate among children. Although very rare in adults, it could occur, and the survival rate was close to total. Buffy had been very lucky to get this tumor as an adult. That was what the doctor kept telling them, over and over again, but somehow neither Buffy nor Giles were comforted. Every time the doctor told them how lucky Buffy was, Giles came closer and closer to beating the shit out of the smug bastard.

The doctor had trouble reserving a surgical room, so it was nearly a week from her diagnosis until the surgery. Giles spent that week going insane from worry; Buffy spent it laughing. Somehow, the idea of brain cancer struck her as hysterically funny. “If I had known that this was all I needed to do to get out of patrolling, I would have developed a brain tumor years ago,” she joked. Giles didn’t laugh at that, but he was downright angry when Buffy snickered, “Well, whatever else that MRI showed, it conclusively proved that I do too have a brain.” Buffy laughed at his irritation and begged him to bring her his Monty Python DVD set so that they could watch the episodes together. She liked to select all the sketches that had lobotomy patients ( _“And now, I would like to say...”_ ) so she could make fun of them and of herself. Giles didn’t laugh at those witticisms either, which just struck Buffy as even funnier.

Buffy made a lot of jokes about her upcoming surgery, and none of them were amusing, but somehow they calmed Giles down. He should have been there for her, but **she** was the one keeping **him** sane. He just couldn’t believe that things were truly that awful whenever he was with her. He held her hand, listened to her laugh at her own gallows humor, and knew that everything would be all right.

Years later, seconds later, their five days were up. Orderlies wheeled Buffy out of her room at 5:45 in the morning so that she could be in the operating room at 6:00 on the dot. It was a seven hour surgery, and the doctors wanted to get an early start.

Over the course of a summer, Angel had spent a few hundred years in a hell dimension. Wrapped up in his own hurt and grief, Giles had never believed that the vampire had truly suffered while he was down there. After all, despite what he said, Angel was only gone for a few months; his fingers hadn’t even been completely healed by the time the vampire returned. Giles learned differently on this day. Seven hours, waiting for word about Buffy’s progress, was easily the equivalent of two hundred years of hellish torment.

The surgery wasn’t over by 1:00, and every minute past that seven hour estimate felt like a lifetime. Finally, the nurse came to fetch him. It was nearly 2:30. “Mr. Giles? Buffy’s out of surgery now, if you’d like to come see her.”

“Yes,” he croaked thickly. “I, I would, um, I would like that. If, if it’s alright.”

The nurse nodded kindly and pretended that she didn’t notice how difficult it was for him to keep control of himself. She led him through a series of mazelike passages until the reached the Intensive Care Unit. When the nurse showed him where Buffy was, his heart stopped.

She was propped up in bed with tubes coming out everywhere. Her head was so wrapped up in bandages that it was almost doubled in size. Giles thought of those fucking Monty Python sketches she had made him watch with her and nearly threw up. This wasn’t funny; it wasn’t even mildly amusing. It was real, and it was horrible, and far, far worse than his nightmarish visions of Buffy covered with vampire bites. In some ways, it was even worse than seeing her corpse after she fell off that damn scaffolding a few years ago.

The doctor came up to him, an earnest man who looked younger than his Slayer. Giles had been a bit concerned about leaving Buffy’s care in the hands of this child, but the nurse told them that the youthful looking surgeon was actually close to forty. He looked young because he exercised for several hours a day and ran marathons on a regular basis. Buffy teased him about his concern, claiming that he was just worried that she might try to pick up the hottie doctor when she was on the operating table. He had scowled good-naturedly, but had been secretly relieved to hear that the man was so driven and disciplined; those seemed like good characteristics to have in a neurosurgeon.

Giles watched the doctor approach him now, however, and couldn’t summon up any of that relief. The doctor looked grave, and somehow Giles knew that he wouldn’t like whatever the doctor was going to say to him.

~*~*~

“Um, knock-knock.” Giles looked up and saw Willow peeking through a crack in the door. He got up and opened the door without saying anything. She looked lovely, even though it was clear that she had been crying at some point today. “Um, hi Giles. I know that you want to be alone and all, but I wanted to talk to you before the, uh, you know.” Giles smiled at her confused babbling, and nodded for her to continue. “I just wanted to make sure that you know that I love you. Not because of Buffy, but because of you. I, uh, just wanted you to know that.”

“I do, Willow,” Giles said softly. “I do.” He pulled her into a bear hug, and held on for dear life. “You have always been the dearest of friends to both of us.”

“Stop that,” she sniffled. “You’ll make me cry again, and I just fixed my makeup.”

“It doesn’t matter in the least,” he assured her. He kissed her forehead gently and then stared into her beautiful jade eyes. “You’ll still outshine almost every person in the chapel today.”

“You really are a sweet talker, aren’t you Giles?” She stood on tiptoe, and lightly brushed his cheek with a friend’s kiss. “I can’t believe Buffy figured that out first. I was supposed to be the smart one!”

Giles laughed, but didn’t get the opportunity to respond before Willow slipped out the door. Ah well, he would see her after the service.

 

~*~*~

The surgery took longer than anticipated because the cancer had metastasized. It was in two quarters of the brain instead of one localized spot, which meant that the doctor had injured more of the brain that he would have liked while excising the tumor. Her recovery would be very difficult, and it was quite likely that some brain damage would be permanent. As bad as this was, the doctor was more concerned about the fact that the tumor had moved onto Buffy’s brain stem. It was impossible to operate upon the brain stem, and the doctor was not happy about how much of the tumor he had been forced to leave behind. “We will have to depend upon radiation killing the last of the tumor,” he said unhappily. “I just don’t understand how the MRI could have missed such a significant invasion of the brain stem. And I also don’t understand why Ms. Summers wasn’t in the ER last month. I don’t think I’ve **ever** seen a tumor grow so fast!”

Something in the way the doctor said this tickled Giles’ intuition, but before he could pursue it, he saw Buffy stirring. He ran to her side, and she gave him a weak smile. She tried to say something, but her voice was too slurry for Giles to understand her. Taking a chance, he whispered, “I love you too, Buffy.” His guess was correct. She gave him a more genuine smile and then drifted back to sleep.

Buffy stayed in ICU for two days, and the pattern remained the same. She drifted in and out of sleep, and always tried to talk to him whenever she was awake. Unfortunately, it was a long and painful battle to understand even short sentences. When he took the time to do so, he learned that she was completely lucid and in control of her faculties; she just no longer had the ability to communicate. Because it was a struggle to understand Buffy, nobody but Giles took the time to do so. And because they couldn’t understand her, the hospital staff treated her like a complete idiot. This was hard for Buffy, but it was killing Giles. Every time a nurse or orderly talked to her like she was a vegetable, Giles saw the hurt flash in Buffy’s beautiful eyes and had to fight down an urge to throttle whichever clod was addressing her. He swore that he would catch every single word she wanted to say, no matter how hard she struggled to talk and no matter how difficult it was for him to understand her.

In addition to not being able to talk, Buffy was unable to stand, walk, use her right hand, see without holding an eye patch over one eye, or swallow liquids. And she could no longer summon even slight smiles, much less the hearty laughter and light-hearted giggles that had overwhelmed her as recently as the morning of her surgery. That was reasonable. She hadn’t actually felt that bad before the surgery; now she was a mess. And to add insult to injury, she still had the headaches, nausea, dizziness and double vision that had led her to the doctors in the first place.

Almost two weeks after the surgery, the doctor came to talk to the two of them. “I must say, I am pleased and amazed at Buffy’s recovery.”

Giles was amazed at this statement, but not at all pleased. “How the bloody hell can you say that? She’s hardly back on her feet, is she?”

“Well, no,” the doctor admitted. “But I wouldn’t expect that in any case.”

Giles wanted to protest. Buffy’s ‘hottie doctor’ had never suggested that she would suffer such extensive brain damage from the surgery. He had said that the tumor needed to be removed, and both Buffy and Giles had assumed that she would be better afterwards, not worse. Before Giles could find the words to express his rage, however, Buffy gave his hand a small pulse of pressure. It was an obscene parody of the Slayer strength that should have been hers, but he knew what she meant by it. She wanted him to listen, so he closed his mouth and gave the doctor an intimidating glare.

The doctor cleared his throat self-consciously and continued. “Buffy is going to need rehabilitation therapy in order to relearn basic skills, and she needs it soon. The more time passes between a brain injury and rehabilitation treatment, the more likely the damage might be permanent. If Buffy is going to regain the ability to speak and walk, it is imperative that she check into a rehab hospital as soon as possible.” The doctor took a deep breath, and then continued. “However, she also needs radiation therapy, to kill the parts of the tumor that I was unable to remove. We will go through extensive chemotherapy later, in order to make sure the cancer doesn’t come back, but it is radiation that will kill the last of the tumor. The longer we put off radiation, the more time the cancer on Buffy’s brain stem will have to grow unimpeded.”

Giles stared at the doctor, trying to determine everything that the cagey bastard wasn’t saying. Speaking slowly, he asked, “So you feel that she should start radiation now and then go to a rehab hospital?”

“Actually, I feel that would be a poor choice,” the doctor admitted. “Radiation will be brutally difficult, and I don’t feel that it would be in Buffy’s best interest to begin the treatment until she is somewhat recovered from the surgery.”

Buffy, his brave and beautiful Slayer, flinched when the doctor said that radiation would be ‘brutally difficult.” Giles hated the idea that anyone could make Buffy feel afraid, so it took every bit of his willpower to keep his voice pleasantly neutral when he asked, “So, what are you suggesting then?”

“I would like to transfer Buffy to a rehab hospital in the next day or two. She will probably spend about a month there, relearning how to walk and talk, and just generally regaining her strength. After she comes out, we will begin radiation treatments.” The doctor looked at them sternly, and Giles fought down a flush of fear. “This is not without risks, however. An analysis of Buffy’s tumor shows that it is growing abnormally fast, and there is more growth upon the brain stem than I like to see. The wisest course of action might very well be to start radiation treatments this afternoon. However, if we wait that long to start rehab, I’m not sure that she will ever walk again. Moreover, as things stand now, I’m not sure that Buffy has the strength to make it through radiation.” Buffy started to say something, in her painfully slow slurry voice, but the doctor interrupted her. “Don’t say anything yet. Talk it over between you, and let me know what you want to do when I make my evening rounds.”

~*~*~

The door suddenly opened, and Xander clomped in. “Hey, G-Man! You know the Dawnster’s looking for you, don’t you?”

“Yes, so Pastor King mentioned,” Giles responded distantly.

Xander was unfazed by Giles’ attitude. He just nodded at the Watcher and said, “Well, I’ll hold her off for a bit, but it won’t be for too long. You know how scary she can be!”

Giles chuckled slightly, finally releasing his tight posture. “Yes, yes she can be. I’m almost done here.”

Xander paused by the door. “I know this may sound strange to say but, uh, I’m proud of you Giles.” The Watcher turned startled green eyes upon the younger man, and Xander blushed. “What you’re doing today, in a few minutes? Standing up in a church, in front of all those people? I couldn’t do it. I **didn’t** do it. Anya always deserved better than me, you know. I wish that I could have been more like you for her.”

“Xander, you would have done it if you’d had the opportunity,” Giles said quietly. “You two... you simply ran out of time.”

Xander didn’t say anything to that. He just shrugged and closed the door. Giles sighed, knowing that this was hard for his friend. He wished that he could make it easier for him, but mostly Giles wished that he could make it easier for himself.

~*~*~

Buffy decided that she wanted to go to the rehab hospital. Although he was worried about the possible consequences of that decision, Giles wasn’t surprised. His Slayer wasn’t cut out to be an invalid, and lying in bed had never been her style. As for the risk? Well, she had never liked to play it safe.

Giles stifled a sob as he remembered that morning. That had been a bloody awful day, and it still hurt to think about it. He had been so sure that he would bring Buffy home with him. He knew that she wasn’t right, he knew that she still needed a lot of care, but he still hadn’t been prepared to hear that she would be going to another hospital for an entire month. Another month of spending all day at the hospital before going home to his lonely apartment and cold bed. He needed to be strong for Buffy, but her recovery process was just as difficult for him as it was for her.

But it wasn’t a month. Buffy made remarkable progress in rehab. Within a week, her speech improved markedly. Most people still couldn’t understand her very well, but Giles could follow every word that she said, and that was the incentive Buffy needed to throw herself into all of her rehabilitation therapies. By the end of the second week, she could get around very well with a walker, and could even use a cane for minutes at a time. She could also climb stairs (though the physical therapist liked Giles to go up behind her, just in case), drink liquids without choking, feed herself, and brush her own teeth. While these sounded like small accomplishments when placed next to staving off apocalypses, the fact was that Buffy was running circles around all the other patients in the rehabilitation hospital. Every doctor there felt the need to tell Giles that they had **never** seen a patient with that much brain damage make that quick of a recovery. He shrugged and said nothing, but inwardly he gloated over her Slayer abilities.

One month to the day from Buffy’s diagnosis with brain cancer, she finally came home. She still used the walker out in public, but got along fairly well inside the apartment with her cane. He had had visions of making love until dawn, but the ride home from the hospital exhausted her. He tucked her into his bed and cuddled up next to her. Since it wasn’t even dinnertime he wasn’t tired, so he just lay beside her and watched her sleep. It was enough, perhaps more than he deserved.

The next morning, Giles took her back to the hospital. The doctor wanted Buffy to undergo another brain scan so that the radiologist would have a current view of her brain. Both doctors would review the scan that afternoon, and Buffy would begin her treatment on the following day. With this plan firmly in place, neither were prepared to hear from the hottie doctor shortly before dinnertime. He asked Giles to put Buffy on another line, and then began without further preamble. “I just finished looking at Buffy’s MRI,” he began abruptly. “I’m not very happy with it.”

“I don’t understand,” Giles growled. “Buffy has been doing very well. The rehabilitation doctors were quite encouraged as to her progress.”

“No,” the doctor corrected, “they were **amazed** by her progress. Seeing this MRI, I can understand why. I have **never** seen anybody recovery from neurosurgery as quickly as Buffy has; the swelling is what I would expect from somebody who had brain surgery six months ago, not one.” The doctor took a deep breath, and then continued. “However, Buffy’s remarkable recovery is not the only anomaly on the scan. The tumor has grown over the past two weeks. A lot. Before, the amount on the brain stem was not even visible; now it is. _Medulla blastoma_ are generally fast growing tumors, but I have never seen anything even remotely like this.”

 _Of course you haven’t_ , Giles thought to himself. _You’ve never treated a Slayer before._ For that, of course, was the problem. The same supernatural healing abilities that had kept Buffy alive for the past ten years were now killing her. Her healing powers didn’t differentiate between healthy cells and cancerous cells; if some part of her body were damaged, her body would accelerate the healing process regardless of whether the damage was to Buffy’s benefit or not. Buffy’s astonishing recovery from surgery and the unusually rapid growth rate of her tumor were not separate phenomena; they went hand in hand. Giles should have expected it, but he doubted that a case like this had ever been written up in the diaries of previous Watchers. Slayers so seldom lived long enough to develop cancer.

The silence stretched on, so the doctor began laying out the options. Another surgery was out of the question, but he could have the radiologist double the amount of radiation she was to receive, that might do the trick. And perhaps they could start chemotherapy concurrently with radiation; that was risky, but there was a chance it might work. And he supposed that they might—

Buffy interrupted his nervous ramble with one short question. “Do you think any of those will work?” When he stuttered out a reluctant no, Buffy let out a short bitter laugh. “Well, thanks for calling, Doctor. We’ll let you know what I’m going to do tomorrow.” He started to object, but Buffy hung up on the doctor without another word.

~*~*~

Giles looked at his watch. Ten minutes till two. He should be going now, but he simply couldn’t leave his mental odyssey there. He would never be able to make it through the service if he did. That day, almost three weeks in the past, had held happiness as well as grief. He needed to hold on to both of them if he was going to do what he needed to do today. He would sit here for five more minutes, no more, and he would remember it **all**. When he was done, **then** he would go in to the sanctuary.

~*~*~

Giles muttered an insincere thank-you and a hasty goodbye to the doctor, and then went into the bedroom to talk to his love. He found her, sitting on their bed, staring at the phone. He sat beside her, pulled her in for a hug and gently kissed the top of her head. “I, I don’t know what to say, Buffy. I believe, um, that is to say, it seems likely that this is a, a side-effect of your Slayer healing.”

“Yeah,” Buffy agreed. “That was kind of my guess too. I’m also guessing that this is a death sentence.” Giles knew that she was correct, but started to object on principle. She held her hand up to his mouth and shushed him. “It’s okay, Giles. I’ve cheated death so many times that it’s actually kind of funny to go this way.”

“You’re giving up rather quickly, aren’t you” Giles asked harshly. “You haven’t even tried radiation. You don’t know—“

“Yes I do,” Buffy said. “I do know, and you know too. I **also** know that I will lose all my hair with radiation, throw-up for six solid weeks, and be exhausted the entire time. I’ll be so sick that I will want to die, and then I will. Giles, that isn’t how I want to live the rest of my life. I want to spend it with you, hopefully with enough strength to have a little fun.”

Giles glared at her, and she glared right back, daring him to contradict her. Finally he collapsed in on himself, nodding in defeat. He fell into her chest in despair, and locked his arms around her torso desperately. She stroked his hair softly for a moment, and then pushed him up. “Giles, can I ask you something? A, a favor? A big one?” She looked at him so earnestly that he knew that he would agree with anything she asked of him. That didn’t change the fact that her nervousness was putting butterflies in his stomach. He prepared himself to agree to something unpalatable. “Can we, um, canwegetmarried?”

Giles blinked in surprise. That wasn’t what he had been expecting at all. “Mar- um, did you say ma- married?”

Buffy turned beet red. Giles prayed that her blush originated in embarrassment rather than shame. “I, I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I wanted to have that connection before I died, but it’s probably a really stupid idea. I just thought—“

Giles shut her up with a thorough kiss. He poured all his heart and passion into that kiss, and left them both quite dazed. He shook off his bemusement quickly, however, because he wanted to talk to her before she gathered her own wits. “That is **not** a stupid idea. It is the best notion I have ever heard. I want you to be my wife, for as much time as we have left.” He stared into her beautiful hazel eyes until he was certain that she believed him. Then he gave her a waggish grin. “I was just surprised that you thought of it before me. I thought I was the brilliant one.”

Buffy laughed and swatted him. “You did think of it first. Don’t you remember, you asked me to marry you when...”

Buffy trailed off, and Giles wondered if she did so because she was remembering the circumstances of his proposal, or if she now wondered whether he had only asked her because of the baby. The baby that wasn’t. Giles hated the idea that either thought could spoil this moment, so he deliberately put on the most provocative smirk he could produce. “That’s not the way I remember it. **I** remember deliberately **not** asking you! However, if you would agree to go out with me tomorrow night, I shall soon rectify that.”

Buffy gave him a shy smile, and Giles’ heart melted. “I think I’d like that. If you think you can pull everything together in just one day, I’d like that a lot.”

Giles smiled sweetly, but his eyes glowed with sincerity. “For you, Buffy, I can do anything.”

~*~*~

When the door opened again, Giles didn’t need to look up to know who was there. He looked down at his watch. It was 1:57; he really was out of time. As the young woman at the door soon reminded him. “I’m sorry, Giles, but we’ve really got to go into the sanctuary now.” She gave a tremulous smile, a valiant but futile effort to hide the panic in her eyes. “Unless you’re planning to bale on me, which would be really shitty of you, you know.”

Giles looked up at that. She wore a traditional dress, and looked beautiful. Black suited her very well. “I would never do that, Dawn. I wouldn’t trust you to deliver my eulogy properly.”

Giles draped a comforting arm around his sister-in-law’s shoulders, and then headed off to bury his wife. It should have been their two-week anniversary.

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> I said in my introductory notes that I am approaching an anniversary of my own. In January, it will be five years since my husband was diagnosed with a brain tumor. Since only a microscopic part of his brain stem had been invaded, radiation was able to kill it completely and he has been cancer free since June of 2000. Sometimes stories end unhappily, and sometimes they don’t. Here’s hoping that all of you lovely readers have the happy endings that you deserve, particularly as we approach the holiday season.
> 
> Shelley


End file.
